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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162351">i can't escape the way i love you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/befham/pseuds/befham'>befham</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Tudors (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Because I Live For Fanny Flutters, Clever Anne Boleyn, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Henry Being A MASSIVE Dick, I promise, Infidelity, It's Henry Give Me A Break, Porn And Politics, Shut Up It's A Thing, Things Get Better</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:55:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25162351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/befham/pseuds/befham</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She had to fight. For Elizabeth. For her life.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>For Henry.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Henry gives Anne one more chance.</b>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anne Boleyn/Henry VIII of England, Henry VIII of England/Jane Seymour, Henry VIII of England/Other(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>283</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello my darlings 💗<br/>Not going to lie, this is going to get pretty filthy. And angsty. You all know I'm an angst whore at heart.<br/>Hope you are all keeping safe during these crazy times. </p>
<p>Everything is canon up until the end of season 2.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Henry,” Anne breathed. For a moment the world ceased to exist as Henry looked at her with such hatred she was sure that if it were not for Elizabeth’s presence he would have strangled her with his bare hands. She almost retreated back the way she came, but she could not lose him. She could not allow her enemies to continue to poison him against her-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. She had to fight. For Elizabeth. For her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Henry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Henry,” Anne begged, any pride she may have once possessed gone the moment she realised that this was it. She had finally reached her end. Without dignifying her with an answer, Henry turned away from her in disgust and that was when she realised all hope was lost. What small part of her that remained confident that Henry still loved her despite her failings vanished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a naive girl she had once been to think that their love could survive anything! She once thought that together they were unstoppable. They had survived Henry’s marriage to Catherine, the scorn of his friends and his subject, they had even survived the scorn of the Catholic Church-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alas, they could not survive this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne shifted Elizabeth in her arms, the girl quiet in her arms as she watched her mother with wide eyes. She ran a soothing hand across her daughter’s soft hair and stumbled after Henry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please! For the love you bear our child, for the love of Elizabeth! Have mercy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You lied to me,” Henry said thickly, not sparing her a glance. “You have always lied to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Anne cried aghast, because for all of her sins, this was not one of them. His anger getting the better of him, Henry spun around and pointed an accusing finger at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were not a virgin when you married me,” he accused as he ventured closer. Anne backed away, her fear getting the better of her as he crowded her. Never in the ten years that they have been together had she seen him so furious. “You were not what you seemed.” Henry looked her up and down, his disgust plain for her to see. “Your father and your brother arranged everything.” Turning on his heel, Henry strode off, his steps quick and unfaltering as Anne cried after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I loved you,” she cried after him. With a desperate burst of energy, Anne shifted Elizabeth in her arms and rushed ahead of him to block his path. Henry made to push passed her but Anne fisted a hand in his doublet. “I loved you,” she repeated softly, imploring to believe her, to trust her above those who sought to ruin her, ruin </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. How could he possibly think that the last ten years had been an act? “And I love you still,” she admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true. Despite the fact he loathed her and loved another, she still loved him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry looked at her, his eyes hard and unforgiving, his lips pressed into a flat line. Anne choked back a sob. “Please,” she begged, her eyes pricking with tears. “After everything we have been to each other.” Henry clenched his jaw and made to push passed her but Anne desperately clutched onto him. “After everything we were. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words did not have their desired affect however. Henry made to push passed her once more and Anne’s patience finally snapped. She pushed him back and stumbled up the steps to block his path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, how furious he was, but twas then Anne realised that he truly believed the poison dripping from his lips-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh Henry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Later she would be angry with him for being so willing to believe such preposterous allegations against her, but now she only felt defeated, hopeless as she realised that there was no changing her stubborn King’s mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne let out an exhausted cry as she shifted Elizabeth on her hip. Her hair fell in her face and she was sure that she looked as disheveled and broken as she was feeling. Anne met his gaze and softly begged, “One more chance.” But she knew it was no good. Once Henry had made up his mind there was no changing it. Anne shook her head and whispered, “One more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry looked away from her and quickly climbed up the stairs as though he could not bear the sight of her any longer. “Henry,” Anne pleaded, attempting to step in his path once more, but he shoved her aside. Anne clutched onto Elizabeth tightly, the one thing in this world giving her any semblance of strength and hope as it collapsed around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne finally allowed herself to cry as she spun around and watched Henry walking away. “Your Majesty!” she cried after him, but Henry kept walking, his back stiff and his shoulders hunched. “Your Majesty I beseech you!” She hugged Elizabeth close as he ignored her once more and Anne finally gave up. With a silent cry of despair, she sank to the ground and clutched onto the one thing she had left in this word.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>-&amp;&amp;-</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>He was dining privately when his man handed him a letter. “From the Queen,” he said, his voice thick with trepidation. Henry quelled the urge to throttle him and instead waved him away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mere mention of his so-called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Queen</span>
  </em>
  <span> struck a fury like no other in him these days and it was well known around the palace that the King’s anger was brutal and unforgiving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave it on the table,” he commanded, his eyes fixed upon her familiar handwriting addressed to him on the front. An unexpected pang of nostalgia hit him in the chest as he remembered how once he would have ripped the letter from the servant's hand to read the words his beloved had written to him. Now he could barely stop himself from throwing her letter into the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he had finished his plate, Henry picked up the letter and sat in a chair by the roaring fire. The scent of Anne’s perfume filled his senses as he carefully opened the envelope, his fingers tracing the careful penmanship and the smudged ink where her tears had fallen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a trick, nothing more. Another scheme her brilliant mind had come up with. It was all a lie, just as the last ten years had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lord, he hated her. He hated her with every fiber of his being for making him look a fool, for making him love her and tricking him into marriage. He gave her <em>everything</em> and all he had asked for in return was to give him a son, to be his loyal, faithful wife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It knocked him sick to think of another in her bed. Another man knowing the softness of her skin and the taste of her kisses-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost threw the letter straight in the fire and watch it burn, just as she would when she went to hell. And yet, even though he hated her and could not wait to be rid of her, something stopped him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers traced over her words as soft as the caresses he once gave her, and Henry could not help but read every word with reluctant reverence.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My dearest King,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forgive me, but I cannot bear to think that our last meeting could be our final words to one another. I have made peace with what is likely to come, and despite everything, I regret nothing. I cannot regret my love for you, a man who changed a country to make me his wife and resulted in the birth of Elizabeth. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You wish for the truth so I will speak plainly. Once you grew tired of my sister Mary, my father requested my presence at court and ordered me to catch your eye. I had many reservations. Though I had not met you, even I had heard of your fleeting affairs back in France and had no wish to be one of your, forgive me, many conquests. My father wished for me to seduce you, become your mistress and perhaps even bear your children. He had no care for my virtue or my prospects, he only cared for what your affection could reward him. When he realised that you loved me, well, his ambitions grew. And perhaps so did mine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I made it clear to all that I had no desire to be your mistress. If I were to go to your bed, then I would do so as your wife, your equal, your Queen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was not supposed to fall in love with you. But how could I not? You were everything I had once craved when I was little more than a foolish girl. A gentle prince, a strong king who vowed to tear his kingdom apart in order to make me his Queen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>George thought me a fool, and I am inclined to agree with him as my life would have been far more simpler. There are days that I wish I did not love you, for whilst you bring me happiness, there is no other in this land that can cause me such pain. I could watch you parade women before me and not have a care in the world. I could watch you turn away from me, dismiss me with no thought and not have my heart broken each and every time.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It matters little now. You are forever a part of me as I am forever a part of you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Despite only meeting you several times, the words upon your letters stole my heart. I would count down the minutes until I could see you again, see your smile and your eyes which looked upon me as though I was the greatest treasure ever known. I quickly began to realise that I loved you far more than someone could ever love a crown and a title. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, my family orchestrated our meeting, but the rest, oh Henry, our love was true.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Twas true. I was not a virgin when we married. You had the honor of claiming my maidenhead all those moons ago in our first union in the forest. I spent the years of our courtship insisting that no man but my husband would have my maidenhead on our wedding night. Perhaps I am a liar afterall, but the moment you took me, I knew that I had made no mistake in finally allowing myself to be with you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But hear this, my love, I have lain with no man but you, my husband. How could I possibly think of the touch of another man after I have experienced a passion such as ours? I gave you my heart many years ago, and you shall keep it until my last breath.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I shan't beg you for another chance, but I shall give you an apology. I am sorry. I do not always carry myself as a Queen should and I let my passions and my temper best me. But more than anything, Henry, I am sorry that I could not deliver on the promise I made all those years ago. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am your most loyal servant, and whilst I may not always be humble, I am yours to do with as you please. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours, always and forever,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anne Boleyn</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry stared at the letter for a long time, his lips pressed into a hard line.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was not supposed to fall in love with you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But hear this, my love, I have lain with no man but you, my husband. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I gave you my heart many years ago, and you shall keep it until my last breath.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours, always and forever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered her ruined dress, her hair disheveled and her tear filled eyes as she begged him to see reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne Boleyn, a woman who had never begged for anything in her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry swore.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for all the kudos and the comments darlings 💗👑</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Twas a good thing that Cromwell spent much of his days and nights working for it was the early hours of the morning when the King summoned him to the throne room. In truth Cromwell was about to retire before his early rise with the sun and he could not help but silently condemn the man who had made him his chief minister. Alas, it must have been important if the King required his services at this time of night, so he bit back his annoyance and rushed down the deserted halls of the palace, not wanting to anger the King with his lateness.</p><p>He spared the herald a curt nod, but the man only replied with a lifeless stare and announced his presence to the deserted throne room save for the King lounging in his throne with a goblet resting carelessly in his hand, his face eerily calm. Cromwell could not quite quell the sense of dread that flowed through him. The King was unpredictable at the best of times, but under the influence of drink he was something else entirely.</p><p>Cromwell bowed, and despite his nerves his voice did not shake as he greeted his King. “Your Majesty.”</p><p>Henry did not acknowledge him for a long moment and Cromwell’s unease grew. Something was wrong. Very wrong.</p><p>“Every Boleyn is to be banished from court and cease all communications with the Queen. They may keep their titles for now, but they are not to be in mine or the Queen’s presence on pain of death.”</p><p>Cromwell tried to keep his face free from expression as he dutifully replied, “Yes, Your Majesty.” In truth, he had no idea what to make of the King’s words. It was a good thing that he clearly no longer favored the Boleyns, but Cromwell already had a firm plan in place to get rid of the lot of them. On the other hand, why would the King care if the Boleyns spoke to Anne if he planned for her to lose her head-</p><p>“Call it off,” Henry muttered, running a hand across his head as though to quell his thoughts. He drained the goblet sitting carelessly in his hand until it was empty. For an obscene moment Cromwell wondered if he was dreaming, for surely the King could not have said-</p><p>It was just the drunken mumblings of a man deep in his cups, it had to be. </p><p>“Your Majesty?” Cromwell inquired carefully.</p><p>Henry snapped his head towards him, his expression calm despite the furious storm brewing in his eyes. Cromwell cursed his foolishness as the King’s full attention fixed firmly on him and it took all of his self control to not back away. “The investigation into the Queen,” Henry said, voice stiff with annoyance. “Call it off.”</p><p>Cromwell swallowed back his panic. Surely the King had not changed his mind? He had thought that now had been the perfect time to strike against his former ally. The King barely tolerated her, and what few friends she had left distanced themselves when she miscarried the King’s son. The woman had become a thorn in his side during her time as Queen as their beliefs ventured down different paths. The damn woman could not stop interfering in his affairs and even though she was not in the King’s favor, Anne was still making Cromwell’s life very difficult as she interfered with his plans. </p><p>Perhaps if she had given the King his son then matters would be different. Perhaps he could have overlooked his plans to put the proceeds of the dissolutions of the monasteries into the King’s coffers, and of course a little in his own pocket. Alas, another dead child and little love between them meant that Cromwell could be rid of the damn woman with very little effort and replace her with Jane Seymour, a quiet, young Englishwoman who held no opinions of importance and was sure to give the King his much needed son.</p><p>In truth, Cromwell felt no remorse in his efforts to remove the woman from power. In fact, Anne had made it downright easy. All he had to do was whisper in the King’s ear and she practically did all the work for him with her unbecoming behavior and her viscous tongue. </p><p>The King wanted his Queen gone, and Cromwell was more than happy to oblige his sovereign.</p><p>It mattered little that Cromwell was certain that Anne was innocent of the charges he was planning on charging her with. Even a man such as he could see that she only had eyes for her husband, but Cromwell needed her removed from King’s side. A simple divorce would not be suitable for Cromwell was sure that the proud Anne Boleyn would fight tooth and nail to keep her crown just as her predecessor did which would be far too inconvenient and time consuming. No, a clean death was far more suitable for all those involved.</p><p>Anne Boleyn was guilty of many other things. That he was sure of. </p><p>But even now, just when Cromwell was certain that he had won, that woman still managed to claw her way back.</p><p>He was a rational man and privately held no belief in the existence of witchcraft and such nonsense, but for a peculiar moment he wondered if it was true what the people of England whispered about their Queen and she was in fact a witch. </p><p>All of his plans rested on the downfall of Anne Boleyn. He had no idea what the woman had done to convince the King to change his mind, but Cromwell refused to believe that she had won.</p><p>Averting his gaze, Cromwell nervously said, “Your Majesty, perhaps it is best that we continue. I have found some worrying evidence that-”</p><p>Cromwell broke off when the King stood up abruptly and hurled his goblet across the throne room with a roar of fury. Cromwell flinched in surprise as it crashed into the call inches from him, but then the King was stalking towards him, every bit the predator he claimed to be as he grabbed Cromwell and pushed him into the wall. Cromwell swallowed back a cry as the King pulled a dagger out and pressed it against his neck, his eyes mad with fury as he hissed, “Call it off. You will make it known that the Queen is innocent and that the accusations against her were vicious lies that her enemies spewed in a failed plot to replace her.” </p><p>“Y-yes, Your Majesty,” Cromwell repeated dutifully, his eyes wide in fear as the blade pierced his skin. He could smell the wine on his breath this close, but Cromwell knew that no words would convince him to change his mind. </p><p>“She is innocent,” Henry snarled, though Cromwell was unsure if he truly believed it or was just trying to convince himself. Cromwell remained silent, his heart pounding in his chest until the King let him go. He dropped to the floor in a heap and Cromwell struggled to catch his breath as the King stalked back to his throne. He watched with wary eyes as Henry sat down as though nothing had happened, his eyes far away. “One more chance,” he muttered so quietly Cromwell was not sure he had heard him correctly. </p><p>“Get out,” Henry muttered, not sparing Cromwell a glance. Mouth pressed into a thin line, Cromwell hurled himself to his feet, a trickle of blood steadily flowing down his neck though he made no move to staunch the flow as he bowed lowly to his King and backed away quickly. </p><p>“And Cromwell?” the King called. Cromwell paused and turned back to his King. “I have not forgotten who was the one to bring these rumours to me,” Henry warned, and when he lifted his gaze to meet Cromwell’s, they chilled Cromwell to the bone.</p><p>There would be consequences for this, that he was sure of.</p><p>Cromwell swallowed. With another low bow, he left.</p><p>
  <strong>-&amp;&amp;-</strong>
</p><p>In the early hours of the morning, Charles Brandon strode down the halls of the palace, his displeasure at being summoned by Cromwell so early written clearly upon his face. The halls were almost empty save for the occasional servant going about their morning routine as they worked to set up the palace for the day, though they were careful to keep out of his way once they saw the expression upon his handsome face.</p><p>The Duke did not knock as he burst into Cromwell’s quarters. He had little time for the man and even less respect. Unlike many others of the nobility, Charles could care less that the man was a commoner and had managed to rise so high in the King’s court. No, Charles hated the callosed man simply because he was little more than a cold fish. His skin crawled just speaking to the vermin that had clawed his way into Henry’s favor and he had no pleasure in being summoned by the man like he was a common dog. </p><p>Cromwell shot him a disgruntled look as he stood by a large window that overlooked the grounds but otherwise remained silent at his audacity as Charles shut the door behind him. </p><p>They were not a lavish set of rooms. Cromwell’s possessions were few and modest, mostly consisting of stacks of books and parchment across every horizontal surface. </p><p>Charles turned his attention to the other man and looked# at him distastefully. “Cromwell, to what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>“We have a problem,” Cromwell muttered in greeting, his gaze returning to look out the window. He looked terrible, Charles noticed with detachment. His pale skin was almost white, the hair upon his jaw unshaven and his hair rumpled. Cromwell was not a vain man, but he always looked put together. </p><p>Something was wrong. </p><p>“The King,” Charles breathed, any hostility vanishing as the thought that something had happened to Henry. Henry was his King, first and foremost, but he was also his dearest friend. “Is he well?”</p><p>Cromwell shot him a frustrated look. “The King is fine,” he replied stiffly. “Although, I cannot say that he is sound of mind.”</p><p>Irritation and relief flowed through Charles. “Then why am I spending my morning with you and not in bed with my wife?” Charles snapped. “Speak plainly.”</p><p>Cromwell’s lips curled. “His Majesty has demanded that the investigation into the Queen be halted immediately,” he spat, his voice incredulous as though he still could not believe it. “He believes her innocent.” </p><p>Charles’ gaze sharpened at Cromwell's words. “Is she innocent?” he demanded plainly.</p><p>Cromwell shot him an annoyed look as though Charles was little more than a child incapable of understanding his brilliant mind. Charles was not the smartest or the most cunning of men at court, but nor was he as ignorant as Cromwell thought. </p><p>“Does it matter?” Cromwell replied.</p><p>“Yes, of course it matters,” Charles snapped. </p><p>In truth, Charles hated the woman and always had. He had little respect for the power hungry Boleyns and their schemes. Queen Catherine was a good woman and she had been replaced with a scheming bitch that an entire country hated. Good men, men far braver than him, had died because of Anne Boleyn.  He loved Henry, but the man had allowed himself to be led astray by a smile and a false promise and England had suffered for it. </p><p>But he was not a callous man. He had no wish to see an innocent woman put to death nor to take a child’s mother away. He did not want such a thing on his conscience.</p><p>“I thought her guilty,” Charles said quietly, lost in thought until Cromwell snorted. </p><p>Cromwell had played him for a fool.</p><p>“Do not be a fool, Your Grace.” Cromwell turned to him fully then, his face tight with anger. “Do you honestly think that she would be so stupid as to lie with another man? The Queen is a clever woman, far more clever than you and perhaps even I and that in itself is the problem.”</p><p>“I do not understand,” Charles said. </p><p>Cromwell sighed. “The woman sticks her nose into business that is not of her concern. She is single handedly dismantling my plans despite the fact the King cannot bear the sight of her. Everything I have worked for, she seeks to disagree with and cause trouble-”</p><p>“So your solution is to have her killed?” Charles said incredulously, his disgust for the man written plainly upon his face.</p><p>Cromwell’s cold eyes flashed in annoyance. “Do not preach to me your innocence in the matter, Your Grace. You were at my side as well, whispering to the King about rumors of his wife’s conduct. If she remains in power, if she secures favor with the King, we will all be in danger.”</p><p>“I thought her guilty,” Charles repeated, his voice hardening.</p><p>“Did you think Wolsey was guilty too? You had no qualms sending him to the Tower-”</p><p>“Enough,” Charles snapped, and Cromwell held his tongue as he realised that he had pushed the Duke too far. “This is over,” Charles said, turning on his heel to leave. </p><p>“Then when the time comes, Your Grace, I shall give you no warning for when she comes for you, and she will want vengeance for this, that I promise you.”</p><p>Charles ignored him, his back stiff with his rage and his mind already plotting his next move.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i am astounded by the response this story has got..thank you for every comment and kudo i have no words for how much it means to me 🖤</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Queen’s quarters were eerily quiet. Anne was not used to it, the complete and utter stillness of her once busy quarters, but the days of learning new dances and the rich laughter of her small gatherings were long gone. What few friends she once had had distanced themselves weeks ago and she had grown tired of the nervous, pitying looks her ladies looked upon her with. No, Anne Boleyn had no wish for others to be present for her humiliation, or even her arrest, she was far too proud, so she had dismissed all of her ladies and her entire household. She sat alone, a book clutched in her hand despite her reading the same line over and over, her clever mind failing to come up with a plan to get her out of the predicament she had landed herself in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne was not one to quit, but there was nothing else to be done. Henry had made up his mind and the price to be paid would be her life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She did not succumb to the fear in her heart and cry and plead for her life once more. She had begged him once to spare her, she would never do so again. No, Anne’s eyes were dry, her posture sure and proud. She was dressed in one of her finest gowns, a blue that matched her eyes and the jewels upon her neck were the most expensive of her collection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked every bit the Queen she was, even if she were to be Queen only for a few more days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ached to hold her daughter one more time but Elizabeth was already on her way back to Hatfield, safely tucked away in the country so she did not have to witness her mother’s fall from grace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was so young, far too young to be without her mother. Would Elizabeth remember her? Would she remember how much her mother loved her? Or perhaps she would only know the story of the wicked Anne Boleyn, the whore who bewitched a King, stole a crown and supposedly betrayed her husband. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That gave her pause, her carefully calm facade cracking at just the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lies. It is all lies-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She only hoped that Henry would find some small mercy in his heart to show their daughter the love he bares for her despite his hatred for her mother-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A throat cleared from the doorway and Anne lifted her gaze to meet Charles Brandon’s. Her hands were steady as she slowly closed her book and placed it upon the table before her. She did not smile as she stood to greet him, her eyes chilling as she studied him. It was easy to see why the ladies at court gave up their virtue for the man before her. He was indeed pleasing to look at, though once she had thought him lacking any intelligence or a mind of his own. The Duke was known for many things, but his mind was not one of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps if Anne was not an intelligent woman she would have been satisfied with a man like Charles Brandon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It mattered little. They had no love for one another. From the beginning, Henry’s dearest friend made his disdain for her well known and the feeling was mutual. They had once tolerated one another for Henry’s sake, but the moment Henry no longer held Anne in his favour, the Duke quietly began plotting against her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was far more intelligent than anyone gave him credit for. All those years ago, Anne had thought of him as nothing but a whoring moron but as the years passed, the Duke had grown up and was far more intelligent than Anne had thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne had underestimated him, and it was perhaps her greatest mistake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne blinked slowly, her patience thinning as Brandon made no move to acknowledge her. His gaze was steady, his jaw clenched though his expression did not bleed with it’s usual hatred for her. It was funny, when she imagined this moment the passed few days, she imagined Cromwell would be by Brandon’s side, her two greatest enemies, united and smug as she was dragged to the tower-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you come to take me to the tower?” Anne demanded calmly as though she was enquiring about the weather. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was a Queen, and she would slit her own throat before she let Charles Brandon see her fear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brandon’s lips pressed into a flat line. “No,” he replied simply, offering no more as they fell into silence. Anne’s lips curled in annoyance but she bit back the urge to snap at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Peace, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she reminded herself. It would do her no good to get into a battle of words with the man before her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not like you,” Brandon eventually said, his voice quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence as Anne looked at him in bewilderment. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not like you,” he repeated louder, his voice more sure as he stepped into the room. His blue eyes flicked around the empty room as though only noticing the absence of her household. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As his blue eyes met hers once more, whatever control Anne had upon herself threatened to slip and she could not help but snap, “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He barked out a laugh but it was not a sound of mirth. “Yes, you have made that </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>clear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bitter smile curved her lips. “Forgive me for being blunt, Your Grace, but if these are to be my last days I do not wish to spend them with you. Say what you have come to say and leave me in peace.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blue eyes watched her closely and Anne realised with a jolt of surprise that this was the first time they had ever spent any time alone together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had absolutely no desire to repeat the experience. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed, and it was a tired, defeated sound. “Get out,” Anne demanded quietly, sick of the sight of the man before her. “Get out and do not return until the King orders my arrest-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were guilty,” Brandon said and Anne had to swallow back her surprise. Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been that. The Duke’s eyes were hard, his lips pressed into a flat line. If Anne had not known any better, she would have said that Charles Brandon almost looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>ashamed. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Unable to help herself, Anne stepped closer to him, her head tilted in curiosity as the man before her stiffly said, “It is not an excuse, but it is the truth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne sucked in a breath, her shrewd eyes careful as she asked, “And now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have reason to believe that you are as innocent of these crimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could not help the mocking smile that came upon her lips. “But not other crimes, no?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did not reply, but he did not need to. They both knew the truth. Anne </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>guilty of many things. She was not a good woman, she could admit it freely to herself. She fought and plotted to get to where she was today and she would not apologise for it to no one but God on the day of her death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you come to gloat, Your Grace?” Anne demanded, her voice raising in agitation. “You think me innocent yet you wish to see me marched to the chopping block-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your sins are your own,” Brandon said calmly, not in the least bit bothered by her ire. “I have no desire to see you die.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever control Anne had on her her anger snapped as she stepped towards the Duke, her eyes narrowed into slits, lips curled back into a snarl as she pointed an accusing finger at her husband’s most beloved friend. “You have been whispering your poison into Henry’s ear for years! Do not deny it, Your Grace. You saw an opportunity and took it and now you cannot bear to have your soul stained with the death of an innocent woman,” Anne spat at the unimpressed man before her. “Do not come to me seeking forgiveness, Your Grace, for you shall never have it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long silence, her words echoing within the empty rooms. “I do not need your forgiveness, nor do I want it,” Brandon said stiffly. “I thought you were guilty, and I was doing my duty to my King, my friend-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne snorted and the Duke sent her a scathing look. “And what, pray tell, changed your mind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brandon clenched his jaw. “Cromwell,” he spat, and this time the Duke could not quite control the anger in his gaze, the disdain in his voice for the man that had caused England so much trouble, and it was in that moment that Anne realised that Brandon was not here to gloat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cromwell?” she repeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He admitted that the whole affair was a plot to be rid of you,” the Duke said stiffly. “All of the evidence, the confessions, everything, he fabricated it all-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He continued speaking but whatever words he said were lost to Anne as for one painful moment hope blossomed in her heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was true that the Duke of Suffolk hated Anne Boleyn and everything she stood for, but he despised Thomas Cromwell with his entire soul. The man was a rodent who saw the entire court as nothing but pawns to be played in his game and the foolish man had made the exact same mistake Anne had made.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had made an enemy out of Brandon thinking that the man was the same whoring boy who obeyed Henry without thought or question. He had not noticed how the Duke had grown over the years, his ideals slowly shaping and solidifying his position as one of the most powerful men at court, and Charles Brandon did not appreciate his blatant disrespect at being used by a man such as Thomas Cromwell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brandon was not just here out of some misguided sense of justice, Anne realised. No, it would not sit well with his morals to see a woman dead because of lies that he spewed, but what made the Duke swallow back his pride and approach her was his hatred for the man who sought to use him as though he was nought but a dog.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Henry,” she breathed, cutting off the Duke’s words. Her eyes flashed with rage. “You must tell him. You must tell him that it was all lies, that Cromwell lied to him-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long pause. “I cannot,” Brandon said stiffly. Anne shot him an impatient look until he explained, “Cromwell will implicate me. Like a fool I repeated his lies to the King. If Cromwell falls for this, as do I.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You foolish, foolish man.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Once, Anne would not have cared if Brandon was caught in the crossfire. She wanted Cromwell’s head and she would not rest until it was mounted on a spike, but the man before her had risked a lot to admit his role in the plot of her downfall to her, his sworn enemy and risk Cromwell’s wrath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, she supposed that Charles Brandon had picked a side, and she would be a fool to refuse his offer of friendship at a time when she was alone in the world. It was not as if she could speak with Henry on the matter for he refused to see her let alone speak with her-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I am still to die then,” she breathed as she came back to reality. “This changes nothing. Henry </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates</span>
  </em>
  <span> me. He wishes to be rid of me and Cromwell has served him up the easiest way possible-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brandon looked at her pointedly. “I cannot presume to know the King’s mind,” was all he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not understand-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will know soon enough,” Brandon said, although his expression did not change, she thought that his voice had softened slightly. “The King will speak to you of it. That is all I will say on the matter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anne’s lips trembled, and as tears pricked her eyes, Charles Brandon averted his gaze to give her a moment to pull herself together. It was an act of kindness she was unused to from him, not that she would ever thank him for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had not allowed herself to even think of the possibility of laying eyes upon her husband once more. She had said everything she had needed to in her letter, though she was certain that he had tossed it into the fire the moment it was placed in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What could he possibly have to say to her?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love him,” Anne said, not quite sure why she felt the need to explain herself to Charles Brandon of all people. Perhaps because he had spent so much time doubting her intentions with his friend or simply to reassure him that his new found trust in her was warranted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I know,” is all Brandon replied with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why have you told me this?” Anne asked softly, making no move to wipe away the few tears upon her cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brandon looked her square in the eye as he gave her his answer. “Even you do not deserve to die for Cromwell’s ambition, and I suppose that we have a common enemy now,” and he smiled at her, a cruel, cold twist of his lips and she felt a fission of respect for this man who, like Anne, had clawed his way into the King’s heart and benefited from it greatly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cromwell will not be pleased that you betrayed him,” Anne warned quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cromwell will get what is coming to him one day,” Brandon said. “I will make sure of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As will I,” Anne vowed, and in that moment, an alliance was formed once more between the Duke and the Queen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even if she were to die tomorrow, she would make Cromwell pay with her last breath.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite Brandon’s words, Anne still prepared herself to be hauled off to the tower at any given moment. Oh, she trusted his words well enough and his desire to get revenge on Cromwell for daring to play Brandon as little more than a pawn in his twisted game of chess, but Anne did not trust the man one bit. She could not forget the years of animosity between them, years of hateful glances and each trying to turn Henry against the other. </p><p>Perhaps he was playing a greater game than even Cromwell, but for now, she put her faith into a man she hated. </p><p>For days she thought herself a fool to trust his words, yet days passed and nothing happened and Anne began to hope that perhaps she could escape this game with her life.</p><p>She did not dare to hope for more, and nor did she wish to. For now, every breath that she took was a gift and the possibility of seeing Elizabeth’s smile once more was far more than she had thought possible days ago. Her status, her family and her marriage lingered on the edges of her mind, yet she fought not to spare much thought as to what would happen to her next. </p><p>Death or divorce. Neither option was particularly appealing to Anne, but if she lived to see her daughter’s third birthday, Anne would count herself lucky.</p><p>She could not bear to think of Henry.</p><p>News reached her that her supposed lovers had been released from the tower.</p><p>It was not only her life that Cromwell had set out to claim with his vicious lies. Sir Henry Norris, a gentle, kind man who had only ever been kind to Anne, was guilty of nothing but being her friend. Perhaps they would have been family one day had he married Madge. Alas, she had heard that the man had returned to Berkshire and she doubted that he would grace her presence again. Dear Mark would never play his beloved violin again, his beautiful hands damaged beyond repair thanks to Cromwell. </p><p>She was sure that the two of them would never wish to hear from Anne Boleyn ever again. </p><p>She had not heard from George and she was far too weary to enquire after him after Cromwell’s disgusting allegations against them. Although they were not as close as what they once were, Anne could not see him privately again. </p><p>Not only had she lost two friends, she had also lost her brother. </p><p>As for William Brereton, the only one who freely admitted to their alleged affair, it was said that he was still imprisoned, although Anne could only assume it was for further questioning as to his false confession. Anne had never spoken two words to the man yet he claimed to know her carnally. The audacity of the damned man! Alas, his confession only proved one thing to Anne. Cromwell was not the only one plotting against her. </p><p>She had a long list of enemies who Brereton could be plotting with, </p><p>Still, Anne did not dare step foot outside of her rooms. Partly because she was still half convinced Henry would change his mind and she would be dead within the week, and partly because she could not bear to be around another living soul and pretend that all was well when in reality she was a horrific mess.</p><p>Two days after Brandon’s visit, Anne had summoned Nan, her dearest friend, to her quarters and let the other woman attend her. Apart from a maid who saw to her baser needs, Anne had refused entry to the few who possessed the courage to request an audience with her. She was no fool, even if this whole ludicrous affair had taken her off guard. Anne was certain that every single one of her ladies had sung like a canary when they were questioned. She had half a mind to dismiss her entire household permanently, but she had no one loyal to her. </p><p>No family, no friends.</p><p>“Things are quiet, Anne,” Nan said, her voice hushed as though maids were listening at the doors when Anne enquired about life outside her quarters. “The King has not been seen in public in days and Cromwell has been storming about the halls in a foul mood.” Nan swallowed. “In truth, the whole palace is talking of nought but your innocence. Not a single soul has an idea whether to curse your name or praise it-"</p><p>Anne tuned her out, a smile dancing on her lips at the image of Cromwell’s sour face. “And what of the Seymour wench?” Anne interrupted, her shrewd eyes watching Nan carefully as her friend hesitated.</p><p>“The King sent her back to Wolf Hall days ago,” Nan admitted softly and Anne’s smile turned bitter. </p><p>“Of course he did,” Anne hummed, casting her eyes down to her hands folded neatly in her lap. “He would not want to tarnish the pure Jane Seymour’s reputation with my alleged sins coming to fruition for all to see.” <em> Perhaps if he had cared for mine then this would not have happened- </em></p><p>“Perhaps he has grown tired of her,” Nan rushed to soothe her mistress, but Anne only shook her head and stared into the roaring fire that lit up her quarters. </p><p>“No,” Anne breathed, her gaze faraway as she remembered a time when a King tore apart his country just to spend ten minutes in her arms. “He loves her,” Anne said softly, finally speaking the words out loud that she has swallowed down for months. “He loves her and he will not be satisfied until he has had her.”</p><p>The smile that she sent Nan’s way was a terrible sight, and privately Nan wondered if her friend had lost her mind. “Whether that is as his wife or his mistress, he shan’t rest until he does.” Anne let out a laugh that chilled Nan to the bone. She was a beautiful woman, her dear friend was. Despite her current situation, she still dressed as a Queen should, even if her thick hair was unbound and spilling down her back and her pale skin shockingly white. It mattered little, she was still a sight to behold and Nan could not help but wonder how the King could ever desire another but her. </p><p>“Perhaps you shall be serving her soon, Nan.”</p><p>Despite her fear, Nan reached out for Anne’s hand and gently squeezed it. “Never,” she vowed, hoping to convey her loyalty. “You will forever be my Queen, Anne, no matter the outcome.”</p><p>Anne stared at her long and hard, her blue eyes piercingly sharp as she hummed. “Tell me, Nan,” she spoke, her words clipped as she watched Nan’s reaction to her next words. “Did you betray me when you were interrogated? Did you dance to Cromwell’s tune and tell him what he wanted to hear?”</p><p>Nan opened her mouth, her brow furrowing as she replied, “No. No I would never-”</p><p>“Speak truthfully, Nan,” Anne said softly, and Nan had to swallow back her fear as she lied.</p><p>“I swear to you, I did not.” Nan held her gaze steadily, but she was sure that Anne could see right through her.</p><p>Anne smiled sadly. “I suppose I truly have no one if even you turned on me,” she said softly, and Nan had to swallow back an apology, a plea for her mistress to understand that she was only trying to save her life-</p><p>“What of my family?” Anne demanded, and any warmth between them had vanished. Nan had to swallow back tears as Anne continued, “I would have thought my father would have been beating down my door by now to exploit this opportunity.”</p><p>“The entire Boleyn household has left court, Your Majesty,” Nan tagged on as Anne’s sharp gaze turned on her once more.</p><p>“The entire household?” Anne demanded, her lips pressed into a hard line, and then she let out a sharp laugh. “Oh Henry, you clever, clever man,” she said softly to herself. </p><p>“Your Majesty?” Nan questioned softly.</p><p>“Oh, do you not see, Nan?” Anne demanded, her lips curved into a smile. “The King sent them away. Father, George, even the damn maids, they are all gone.” She paused, her eyes faraway as she softly said, “I am all alone.” The Queen laughed and it was a terrible, terrible sound that shook Nan to the core. </p><p>
  <b>-&amp;&amp;-</b>
</p><p>
  <span>It was early morning when he came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took days for Henry to visit her and in truth Anne was glad of it. She was not sure that she could bear to see him so soon with the memory of his hateful glare and his willingness to believe disgusting lies so fresh in her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wondered if he avoided her because he could not stand the sight of her or if it was his way of tormenting her further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It bewildered her how he could possibly think she would ever love another but him. Yes, she may not have been the most gracious Queen and wife to her husband, but has she not always shown him her love for him, her loyalty and passion? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had given him his precious daughter, she had given him reason to strip free of the Catholic Church, she had given him love and passion-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alas, perhaps she had been right in thinking that she was nothing more than a thing to bear his sons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His affairs had hurt, but realising that she was so utterly replaceable to him was what broke her heart. It broke </span>
  <em>
    <span>her-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no herald announce his presence, and she was sure it was a ploy to catch her off guard and it worked. Anne had no idea how long he stood at the entrance of her quarters, his blue eyes watching her every movement as she lay curled on her side on the settee, her mind faraway as she read a book. It was only when the single maid she allowed to tend to her, Margaret, gasped softly and stuttered out a greeting did she look up and meet his unreadable blue eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart ached at the sight of him. He was dressed lavishly, all golden and red. Such a handsome man, her husband. But it was his expression that caught her off guard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coldness, the detachment. It was almost worse than the hatred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne looked away, her mouth settling into a firm line as she placed her book on the side table and slowly stood. “Your Majesty,” she greeted softly, her eyes fixed upon the floor as she lowered herself into a graceful curtsey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave us,” he ordered her maid after a long silence. Light footsteps hurried away, but Anne remained in her curtsey, her legs threatening to give out until a pair of hands appeared before her. “Rise,” the King ordered her softly, and if he noticed Anne’s hands tremble as she placed them in his he did not comment. For a moment, it was as though the past three years had not happened. They were just Henry and Anne, a besotted couple far too in love for their own good. It mattered little that he was a King married to an aging Spanish princess and she was a girl far below his station with dreams and aspirations a girl had no right to, but with him, he made her feel as though anything were possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rose slowly, her mind in another time, a time where they were happy and filled with hopes and dreams of their perfect life-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she gave birth to Elizabeth, and then the affairs started, the miscarriages and the irritated glances turned to hateful glares and the passionate, love riddled gaze directed at Jane Seymour-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne carefully snatched her hands away from him once she was standing. She clasped her hands together, her gaze averted as Henry stepped back from her. He cleared his throat to break the awkward silence, but she was damned if she was going to break it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are your ladies?” Henry questioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That is all you have to say? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Anne wondered bitterly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You were on the verge of ordering my death and all you enquire about are my ladies? </span>
  </em>
  <span>If it was anyone else but the King, Anne would think him nervous. But what could the most powerful man in the country have to be nervous about?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had been foolishly hoping for some form of an apology.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to snap at him, to shout and wail until he saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>again. The passionate, well read woman who he once loved above all things, not the shell of a woman fear had turned her into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she could not, not when her position was so unstable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she bit her tongue and fought to wipe any anger from her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dismissed them,” Anne replied, her voice soft despite her next words. “I have no desire to surround myself with those who betrayed me,” Anne explained, her gaze steady as she looked upon him once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What a foolish thing to say-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet she could not regret the words that had escaped her lips as he turned away from her, his full lips turned down in a frown as he looked around her desolate room once more. His eyes linger on the book she was reading, an old favorite of hers he once begged her to read years ago. Something flickered across his face, sorrow, longing, she could not tell, but it was gone in an instant and when he turned back to Anne his eyes were hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe you innocent of the allegations made against you,” Henry said, and despite everything between the two of them, the words were a balm to her withered soul. She pushed back grateful tears as the burden that had been upon her shoulders for weeks finally lifted and hope and gratitude to the man before her bloomed in her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Henry,” Anne breathed, her hands clenching together desperately. “Thank you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once the allegations were made, you had to be investigated, of course,” Henry interrupted, those piercing blue eyes turning away from her, and what little hope that had bloomed in her chest vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, despite it all, Anne still could not bear to lose him. Sometimes she thought herself pathetic for being so beholden to a man, especially a man such as her husband. In the early days of their courtship, ‘twas Anne that held the power in their relationship. A smile and a whispered word in his ear and the world was at her fingertips. No longer, though. Anne was lucky to get a smile from the man these days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne looked at him steadily, her words ringing passionate and true as she said, “You know that I would never love another but you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Look at me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Anne begged silently. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Show me that you feel something. Anything! Please-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Alas, Henry resolutely kept his eyes fixed upon the roaring fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mouth trembling, Anne stepped towards him, his name on the tip of her tongue to beg him to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry held up a hand to halt her. “Enough,” he said simply, coldly, and then he looked at her and whatever plea she was about to utter vanished at the barely concealed hatred in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne turned away from him, her arms coming up to hug her thin frame. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. She swallowed back the sob threatening to escape her throat and forced herself to breathe, to collect herself. She tried her best to ignore the pained sigh from across the room. After a moment, when her armour was fixed back into place, Anne turned to him once more and forced herself to meet his gaze. When she spoke next her voice was surprisingly steady. “Where does this leave us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry was silent for a long moment, his cruelty knowing no bounds as he made her wait for her certain fate. She may keep her life, but she must lose everything else. Be sent to a nunnery to repent for her many sins, never see Elizabeth again-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are my wife,” Henry said stiffly, and Anne looked at him in surprise, her heart pounding in her chest. She daren’t let herself hope, and yet it bloomed in her chest once more at his words. “You asked for one more chance, and so you shall have it. You have until Christmastide. If there is no sign that you are carrying my child, then we shall divorce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven months. It was always unspoken that another child would secure her crown, but to hear them utter the words with a deadline-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chill went up Anne’s spine. So much could go wrong. She had never had an issue in getting pregnant, when Henry graced her with his presence in her bed and not one of his whore. No, her last two pregnancies had not ended well, and despite her words, Anne was not sure if she could carry another child to term. Despite the physician’s word that she was well able to carry another child, Anne was not sure that she wished to if she had the choice. The memory of the pain, the sight of the barely formed child that slipped out of her and Henry’s anger were all too fresh in her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alas, there was no other option. For Elizabeth, for herself, and even for the man who once loved her, she would do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, there was one thing out of her control. “And if the child is a girl?” Anne enquired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry’s mouth pressed into a thin, irritated line. “I need a son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And by the grace of God I can give you one, if you only just give me the chance. I cannot control-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry held up a hand and Anne bit her tongue at the expression on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a son,” he repeated stiffly, and that was that. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Have you truly learned nothing from all of this? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wondered, although she daren’t speak the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have some requests,” Anne said, her stubbornness overcoming her intelligence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry’s stare was incredulous as a disbelieving laugh escaped him. “You are in no position to make them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet I must insist, Your Majesty,” Anne said. “I am forever grateful to you for all that you have given me, and beg of you to hear my words.” Henry remained silent, his mouth pressed into an angry line, and yet Anne spoke without his permission. “If we are to divorce, I wish for Elizabeth to live with me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Henry stated plainly, eyes tight with hatred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She will be a bastard, will she not?” Anne looked at him long and hard, daring him to dispute her words. When he did not, Anne continued. “When I die, she will inherit my land, my title. Elizabeth will be the wealthiest woman in her own right. If you love her as I do, let her have this. Let us be happy together,” Anne pleaded, and she knew before he even gave a reluctant nod of his head that he would grant that one request for their daughter alone. Bastard or not, he would see to it that Elizabeth would have the best life possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confidence gaining, Anne continued carefully, knowing that her next words would displease him. “Promise me that I shall keep my life-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have already told you I believe you innocent,” Henry interrupted impatiently, dismissively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want your word.” Anne took several steps closer to him, her eyes hardening as she met his glare with a steady, determined gaze. “No matter the outcome, no matter how much you hate me, and you do, I can see it in your eyes, burning, threatening to consume us.” The smile that came to her lips was an ugly, bitter twist of her lips. “No matter your anger, if I fail, I keep my life. You let me live peacefully with my daughter and I never have to see you again.” Something heated flared in his eyes then, but once more, it was gone before she could name it. “I want your word,” Anne repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry’s chest heaved, whether in anger or something else, Anne could not say, but by the thunderous expression upon his face Anne could tell he was not pleased with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when was he ever?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your life is your own,” Henry replied, his voice almost shaking in anger. “You have my word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anne stared at him, her piercing gaze meeting his, neither willing to look away first. And that was when she gave her last demand, voice steady, eyes clear and demanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come to my bed thrice a week. If you wish for your precious son, then come to my bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once, she would have been humiliated at having to ask him to share her bed. It took little more than a look and a kiss to his jaw and he would have worshipped her body for hours. She remembers the days of Catherine begging him to come to her with far too much clarity and she vowed that their marriage would never be like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now she had no such qualms. If this is what it took to save her life, to keep her title, her husband, her daughter-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then so be it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry gave her no answer, but with one last hateful glare, he spun from her and made to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I ever do to make you hate me so?” Anne wondered softly, her eyes burning with tears she was too stubborn to shed in his presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry paused, his hands curled into fists at his side. He did not turn as he stiffly replied, “I shall come to your bed tonight.” And he left without so much as a glance in her direction.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anne considered herself a strong woman, once. Before Henry Tudor was little more to her than the King of England and not her husband. Before he claimed to love her above all others. Before she gave him a daughter and two dead babes. Before he broke her heart beyond repair and pledged his love to another. Before he plotted her downfall, her death-</p><p>Before <em> him-</em></p><p>She was a shell of a woman she once was, the woman who claimed a crown and the heart of a King with little more than a kiss from her lips and a whispered word in his ear.</p><p><em> How did this happen? </em> she wondered. <em> How did I become this pathetic thing who begged and bartered for her life?</em></p><p>He did not speak as he entered her chamber, his eyes downcast as Anne, dressed in nothing but a plum robe that covered her naked body, dropped into a curtsy and softly greeted him. He nodded in her direction, the entire affair awkward and unlike any of their previous couplings.</p><p><em>Was this how Catherine felt? </em>Anne thought. Unwanted and unloved, knowing that the man she loved only shared himself with her in his quest for his beloved son.</p><p>Uneasiness settled in the pit of her belly. She pressed her lips into a hard line and swallowed back the urge to order him away from her for surely Anna had more self respect than <em> this. </em></p><p>She looked away, tears pricking her eyes as she struggled to come to terms with the fact that they have become <em> this. </em>He was her life, and yet she was little more than a burden to him. </p><p>Yet another wife he cannot be rid of.</p><p>If he noticed how her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the tie of her robe, Henry did not comment, or perhaps he did not care. He only let out a breath and stepped further into her chambers. Anne paused as he stepped close to her, her gaze meeting his as his hands rested over hers. “Let me,” he said, his voice far softer than the tone he has deigned to use in her presence lately.</p><p>Sucking in a surprised breath, Anne let her hands fall to her sides as Henry slowly untied her robe, those hypnotising eyes of his never leaving hers as he slid a large hand under the soft fabric and placed it upon her waist. Anne let out a trembling breath, her eyes slipping closed at his long awaited touch. He gently pulled her closer, a hitch in his breath as Anne whispered his name. His other hand slid up her side, reaching up to caress her breast and with her eyes closed Anne could imagine the ghost of a smile dancing upon his lips as a hiss escaped her lips as a thumb circles her aching nipple-</p><p>“Please,” she begged, and her eyes opened and met Henry’s once more, those blue eyes heavy with desire as he finally let her robe fall off her body. His penetrating gaze travelled over her body slowly leaving a trail of tingling skin in their wake. Something in her belly clenched and for the first time in a very long time - perhaps the night she hosted a gathering in her quarters and her husband walked in with fire in his eyes and demanded she dance a Volta with him - Anne felt beautiful. </p><p>In that moment it mattered little that her husband hated her and she was terrified of him. No, in that moment they were simply Henry and Anne once more, both unable to escape the plain <em> need </em> for one another. </p><p>Anne met his gaze unflinchingly as a wave of power washed over her. This powerful man, the most powerful man in England, The King, wanted <em> her. </em> Not Jane Seymour, not any of his mistresses-</p><p>She was his <em> wife. </em>He was hers as she was his. And she would not let him go without a fight.</p><p>A low growl rumbled in Henry’s chest as he slowly circled her, his eyes taking in every inch of skin she had displayed for him. Henry brought a large hand to her belly and pulled her back against his chest. She let her head fall back against his shoulder, a breath leaving her as Henry cupped her breast, his thumb running across her pebbled nipple. A sigh escaped Anne as she felt his manhood pressed against her backside and the groan that fell from his lips was like music to her ears. A ghost of a smirk danced on her lips. “You may hate me, my love,” Anne said breathlessly, her bewitching eyes demanding that he meet her gaze. “But you will always desire me.” </p><p>Eyes flashing in anger, Henry pulled at her taut nipple and a cry tore from Anne’s throat before it was silenced by her husband’s lips upon her own. <em> Finally, </em>Anne thought, unable to remember the last time she had been kissed by him. His hands fell away as Anne turned in his embrace and curled her fingers into the thick of his hair, the world around them disappearing until there was nought of importance but the feel of his mouth upon hers. </p><p>Henry pulled her firmly against his body and she was surrounded by him, his mouth, his touch and just <em> him-</em></p><p>She pulled at his hair, his hands grasped at every inch of skin they could reach as he slowly walked her back until the backs of her legs met her bed. Henry pushed her back and Anne’s breath left her as her back hit the soft mattress. She leaned on her elbows as she watched her husband disrobe, her eager eyes taking in his lithe body, the hardened panes of his chest and his proud manhood on full display for her.</p><p>Not able to help herself, Anne sat up and reached for him, her fist closing around him and slowly teased him. <em> Do your whores do this for you, Your Majesty? Does your sweet Jane Seymour? </em> Henry groaned, his eyes slipping shut and her name left his lips on a breath. Anne lifted herself to her knees and gently pressed her lips to his. <em> Did Catherine ever make you feel this way, my love? </em>Henry fisted his hand in her hair, his lips demanding and unyielding until Anne had to pull away to gasp for air.</p><p>“Take me,” Anne panted against his mouth. “Please,” she begged, aching to feel him inside of her after so long-</p><p>He did not reply, but Henry’s mouth took her again, his hunger and desperation overcoming his hatred. She felt his need with his every kiss, the way his greedy hands could not stop touching her-</p><p>His hands were gentle as he lowered her back to the bed, his hand dipping between her legs to find her slick and ready for him. Anne pulled him down to her, her legs tangling with his as she reveled in his familiar weight against her body.</p><p>For a long moment all they did was stare at one another, breathing each other in, lips so close that they brush against each other.</p><p><em> Only you, </em> she ached to tell him. <em> I will only ever love you.</em></p><p>Something flickered in Henry’s eyes but then he closed the gap between them and laid the gentlest of kisses upon her lips. </p><p>
  <em> Love me. Henry, please-</em>
</p><p>Henry slowly pushed into her, a hiss leaving his lips and Anne could not help but sigh at the sweet sensation of him stretching her. <em> It has been so long, my love. </em> His eyes had slipped shut, his breath leaving in a rush as he took her slowly. Anne gripped his jaw in her hand, her nails biting sharply into his bearded cheek. “Look at me,” she demanded, her words sharp and commanding and tears pricked her eyes as she finally, <em> finally, </em> saw <em> her </em>Henry looking down at her as though she was his entire world. </p><p>She whispers his name, her fingers tangling with his as he took her harder, faster, his lips claiming hers in a bruising kiss. She clung to him tightly, squirming beneath him, eager for his touch, starved for his affection. “Please, my love,” she whispered against his lips, her breaths coming out in a rush as he took her. “Let me bear you a son,” she said, and Henry froze, his eyes glazing over with an iciness that broke her heart as he snatched his hand away from hers. Anne sucked in a startled breath and bit her lip to hide her cry when he slipped out of her and knelt above her. </p><p>Without his weight upon her, Anne felt lost. Anne whispered his name, watching the storm brewing behind his eyes. With an impatient groan, Henry flipped her onto her stomach and pulled her hips up and onto her hands and knees and sheathed himself inside of her once more. </p><p>Anne’s head fell back, the sensation of the angle almost overwhelming as he moved within her. Her thighs trembled with exertion as she pushed back against his thrusts, her hips tilted at just the right angle-</p><p>“Henry...please,”  she gasped, her voice strained and pleading.</p><p>Henry grunted and with one hand he pushed her chest down, forcing her to arch her hips up even more and he began to snap his hips against hers with almost a savage hatred. <em> If this is how you wish things to be, then so be it. </em>Anne pushed back against him, a snarl of her own painted on her lips as she took what he gave her, every stroke, every moan until there was nothing but the feel of him inside of her.</p><p>With a cry, her muscles contracted around him, her breath leaving her as she found her release. Moments later, Henry groaned, his hips stuttering against hers as he gave her his seed.</p><p>
  <em> Please, Lord, let his child settle in my womb- </em>
</p><p>He lay beside her, his breaths slowing and when he opened his eyes and met her gaze, his expression softened, just for one moment, before he pushed himself up and off of the bed. Anne sat up, her nakedness of no concern as she watched her husband hurriedly dress. “Won’t you stay?” she asked softly, allowing herself just one moment of vulnerability in front of him.</p><p>Henry’s reply was clipped, emotionless. “No.”</p><p>Anne reeled back as though he had struck her. “I.. I thought perhaps-”</p><p>“You thought wrong,” Henry said, and when he looked at her it was as though she was nothing but a stranger to him.</p><p>She looked away lest he see her tears, her lips pressed into a tight line to prevent the sob threatening to escape her. She could not bear to watch him leave her once more, but perhaps if she had, she would have seen Henry turn back with guilt flashing across his face as he watched his wife cry. </p>
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